DECORATIONS IN A RUINED CEMETERY

A likable, generally well-written first novel that never quite convinces us of ``the sad, complicated workings of this world.'' It wears its sorrow heavily and tries to achieve a Faulknerian pitch with its dark tale of miscegenation, but there's something unearned about all the joylessness. Meredith Egan, in her mid-30's, here recalls a painful time in her life when she was 12 and her father, Thomas, grabbed her and her twin brother, Lowell, and abandoned his current wife, Cathy. Leaving Cathy behind in New Orleans, Thomas heads for his father's old house in the country but must turn around when a bridge across Lake Pontchartrain collapses in front of them. Instead, he takes his children to live on the top floors of his office in the black section of New Orleans. Born of a light-skinned Negro mother and an Irish immigrant father, Thomas has never come to terms with his mixed blood. His medical practice serves mostly those who can't pay, and his manic behavior is his confused way of fulfilling his Christ complex. Interspersed among Meredith's memories are letters from Cathy, whom Thomas married two years after the twins' mother died in childbirth. Cathy knows family secrets that she thinks explain her ex-husband's peculiar behavior. And to further support her view, Brown includes a few monologues by Murphy, the old black man who Cathy always assumed was some kind of family servant but who in fact played a more crucial and tragic role in Egan family history. There's a level of uncertainty crested here because no one ever seems to know what the other knows, and Brown maintains a compelling dialectic of trust and betrayal. The burden of secrets seems to overwhelm the burden of race here: a well-intentioned but somewhat drab debut novel.